


Yours (Quiéreme Mucho)

by rebeccaofsbfarm



Series: First Kiss Week [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Buddie First Kiss Week, FKW, M/M, Private Diaz, Prompt: In the Heat of the Moment, Seaman Buckley, WWII!AU, historical!AU, idk how to put it guys i just really liked this one, love letter, prompt: interrupted, tw: internalized homophobia, tw: lgbtq+ slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccaofsbfarm/pseuds/rebeccaofsbfarm
Summary: In his last night stateside, Private Eddie Diaz stumbles into a nightclub that's unlike any he's been to before. It's there that he meets a certain sailor that turns his world upside down.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: First Kiss Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765291
Comments: 28
Kudos: 152





	Yours (Quiéreme Mucho)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why this idea came to me, but it has crawled into my heart and set down roots. Before all this, I actually had a playlist of WWII Love Songs (my grandparents met while my grandpa was stationed in the UK), but it's this song that got hold of me. Because I can't half ass anything, below are the two songs that are mentioned by name in this fic, and I highly recommend you listen to get the ambiance.
> 
> [_Yours (Quiéreme Mucho)_ by Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra](https://archive.org/details/78_yours-quiereme-mucho_jimmy-dorsey-and-his-orchestra-bob-eberly-and-helen-o-conne_gbia0100014a/Yours+\(Quiereme+Mucho\)+-+Jimmy+Dorsey+And+His+Orchestra.flac)  
> [ _I'm Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes_ by Bing Crosby with Woody Herman and his Woodchoppers](https://archive.org/details/78_im-thinking-tonight-of-my-blue-eyes_bing-crosby-woody-herman-and-his-woodchoppers_gbia0013316a/I'm+Thinking+Tonight+of+My+Blue+Eyes+-+Bing+Crosby.flac)
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING: This fic has what I call 'playful internalized homophobia' which is basically the characters mocking themselves for being queer. The words 'sissy' and 'queer' are used in a not entirely positive way, and if that bothers you, this may not be the fic for you. The way I see it, it is historical to the time period, and would it would be neglectful to ignore it.**  
> 

Eddie Diaz knows that he should be more afraid of what is to come. He has his orders, and in the morning, he ships out across the Pacific to where the fighting is thickest. But tonight, he is free, spending his last night on the town in Los Angeles. His cohorts have convinced him to enjoy himself, and they certainly take their own advice as a raucous group from his outfit stumbles down the street, hooting and cackling, until one of them pitches into an alleyway to vomit, and they disperse into the night.

Eddie finds himself alone, which he doesn’t mind, and when a neon light catches his attention, he ducks through the door into a night club. There’s a beautiful singer on stage, couples circling the dance floor, and it’s only when he looks closely that he sees the way the pairs are matched and realizes that the singer is not as she appears, though it’s hard not to be entranced by the voice.

Part of him thinks he should leave, like he’s interrupting a gathering of familiars, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he sidles up to the bar. He’s not the only person in uniform, and he observes two servicewomen near him, huddled into an embrace, noting to himself that he has never seen a lesbian before, let alone two at once. They didn’t have bars like this in El Paso, or certainly none that he had ever stumbled into.

He watches, only observing from a distance, until he feels a nudge against his hip. His eyes trail up the white figure next to him from the place a hand grazes his side. He’s a sailor, tall and fair, and his undress whites flatter his long legs and strong biceps. Eddie is suddenly self-conscious, realizing that he is no longer invisible to those around him. The sailor smiles, a line of perfect teeth and pair of stunning blue eyes, and Eddie smiles back. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but he’s curious, wonders what it feels like to be held in the strong arms of another man.

He told himself that when he left Texas, he was bound to become more worldly. He would see and experience things he never could have dreamed, and as he watches those blue eyes scan over his khaki-clad chest, he believes that this might be exactly what he had meant.

The man reaches out to tweak the garrison cap balanced on his head, and chuckles. Nervously, Eddie removes it and folds it, stuffing it in his back pocket and running a hand through his hair, before remembering that he’d cut it to ship out, and the short strands slip through his fingers.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man asks, then holds out his hand to shake. Eddie had been warned by his father that ‘sissy boys’ had weak wrists, but this man has a firm grip, steady and reassuring. He must see the surprise on Eddie’s face, because he smirks and adds, “I’m Buck.”

“Eddie,” he responds, then leans forward to ask, almost shyly, “It’s true what they say about the Navy then?” It’s all he’d heard in basic, that all the queers joined the Navy.

Buck smirks, “Well, Army boy, that depends. Did you stumble in here on accident?”

He glances around the bar, his gaze settling pointedly on two airmen near them, one pressed against the bar with his partner’s head settled into the crook of his shoulder, his arms gathering him from behind. Eddie watches them curiously, not knowing exactly how he feels, before he shrugs, “I haven’t decided yet. What are you drinking?”

“Old Fashioned,” Buck answers tipping his half empty glass, and with a quick nod he calls the bartender to pour another. Eddie is usually a slow drinker, but he feels the need to summon his courage, and he lets the bourbon burn as it slides down his throat. Buck smirks, like he can sense Eddie’s cowardice, but he just finishes his own drink and slides the empty glass across the bar.

Buck hand hovers over Eddie’s hip, and he can feel heat pulsing from the point where they touch. Buck coaxes him toward the dance floor, and Eddie protests, but allows Buck to pull him forward. He stiffens at the idea of being so visible, but then he notices that nobody is watching, all focused only on the person they are with, so he does the same, giving himself into the feeling of Buck’s arms as they settle around him.

Buck pulls him closer, a slow song, and lets his wrists go slack on Eddie’s hips. Eddie reaches up, lets his fingers card the short hair at Buck’s neck, then repays him for earlier by tipping his sailor’s cap forward onto his brow. He notices in the dim light that Buck has a birth mark over his left eye, and it doesn’t take away from his handsome features, just gives his face a little character. In a room of beautiful faces, Buck’s would still be singular.

“Are you shipping out?” he asks, and he knows there’s more than one Navy vessel in the harbor, along with the troop ships that will take him across the Pacific.

Buck nods, and asks, “You?”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie informs him. He starts to relax into the embrace, and Buck lets his hands travel to Eddie’s lower back, settling there and letting his fingers rest at the small of his back. “It’s my last night out.”

“Mine too,” Buck adds, and he leans closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s ear. “We should make it a good one.”

Eddie swallows hard, treacherous anticipation catching in his throat and for the first time he hears the music, but the edges blur until the sound of the band is just a fuzz around the feeling of Buck’s arms around him, his fingertips tracing circles over the base of Eddie’s spine. He is saved from the strength of his own attraction by the swing to an upbeat song, and Buck smiles, open mouthed and frenzied, before spinning him out and back in again, loosening him up as the beat takes over.

He knows that he can leave the dance floor, get another drink, dance with someone else, but he wants none of those things as much as he wants to be here with Buck in that stark white uniform with that tilted smirk that matches the tip of his cap. He gives into the dance, letting Buck lead, and every time he feels unsteady, Buck catches him in those strong arms.

On the final note, Buck swings him into his chest, and Eddie’s arms are crossed against his own chest as Buck holds him there, his face slotted into Eddie’s neck. He can feel the hardness of Buck’s body behind him and he presses against him, as another slow song begins, and they sway along.

“ _Yours in the grey of December. Here, or on far distant shores_ ,” the singer croons to the sway of the orchestra. “ _I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. How could I, when I was born to be just yours_?”

Eddie turns so they are facing each other again, and this time he takes Buck’s hand, directing him to hold him by the waist, and he leans against his sturdy shoulder. Buck seems to wilt into him, and he whispers along as the singer switches to Spanish.

“ _Cuando se quiere de veras. Como te quiero yo a tí_ ,” he presses the corner of his lips to Buck’s throat, but continues murmuring the words against his skin. “ _Es imposible mi cielo. Tan separados vivir_.”

“You speak Spanish?” Buck asks curiously, and Eddie nods. His parents insisted on English, but his Abuela used Spanish at home.

“Si,” he answers coyly, and Buck leans back to smirk at him. “Do you want to know what she said?”

Buck nods expectantly, and Eddie is struck by how hard it is to find the words.

“ _When someone loves you truly, the way I love you, it’s impossible, my darling, to be separated_.”

As if on reflex at the thought of separation, Buck’s arm becomes a vice around his waist.

“This should be our song,” Buck murmurs, and Eddie knows he’s being teased, that this is just one long dance moving into another, but also commits the moment to memory; this song and the way Buck’s arms feel, secure around him.

The song comes to a close, and the tempo picks up again, but Buck’s limbs are heavy against him, and Eddie feels the weight of this moment, this attraction between them. He can feel the crackling in his fingertips, pressing them to Buck’s temple and feeling his hair stand on end, like static electricity.

“Want to get out of here?” Buck asks, and around them people are dancing to the music but for them everything is still. Eddie lets a finger trail from the broad collar of Buck’s shirt down his navy kerchief, adjusting the knot, before he nods.

Buck had seemed so cocksure, so confident, but suddenly he seems nervous. Eddie is nervous too, but tries not to let it show, trailing his fingers down Buck’s arms and taking both hands, before releasing one so he can lead them out of the club. They make it outside, and he realizes he doesn’t know where they’re going, so they stand in the light of the streetlamp until they can figure it out.

“I’ve never…uh,” Buck stutters, and he shrinks from a confident playboy into a wet-behind-the-ears naivete. “I mean with a girl I have, but I haven’t…I mean I never had the chance before.”

“Where you from?” Eddie asks, trying to calm him. He searches for his cigarettes and offers Buck one to steady himself.

Buck takes the cigarette gratefully, then holds it out for a light, “Hershey, Pennsylvania.”

“Like the chocolate bar?” Eddie asks, lighting a second cigarette for himself. Buck nods. “I’ve never been that far north. I’m from El Paso. It was either the service or the oil fields.”

“I guess you chose the one with the better uniform,” Buck jokes, and he’s more relaxed now, loose-limbed and eager to please. He leans forward, tucking a finger under the knot of Eddie’s tie and sliding his hand down the length, tugging him forward. Eddie can’t help himself, his lips curl into a smile and his hands grab onto Buck’s hips to steady himself.

Buck blows smoke hot against his lips, then drops the cigarette to the pavement and crushes it with his toe. Eddie lets his burn between his fingers, a glow in the shadow that falls outside the lamplight. Buck smirks, raises a hand to Eddie’s jaw, his thumb caressing the corner of his lips, and he begins to lean toward him—

A rowdy bunch of servicemen stumble out of the bar. Buck springs away from him, surprised, and suddenly Eddie doesn’t mind how visible they are, just wants to close those few inches of empty air that are taunting him.

Buck’s fingertips stutter against his chest, and he is staring at Eddie’s lips now. Eddie wants so much to just grab him and drag him forward, but the group is now loitering in front of the bar, only a few steps away, and while they certainly would be similarly-inclined, this thing between them isn’t owed an audience. With a sigh, Buck drags his eyes away, searching the street, before a notion crosses his face.

“Follow me,” Buck says, and Eddie does, like he’s being pulled on a tether tied around Buck’s little finger. Buck takes them down the street a ways, until he finds a gate that swings open when he applies pressure. It’s an alley between two buildings, a breezeway for the windows above, but at this time of the night it is still and the windows are dark.

The wrought-iron gate clinks closed behind him, and Buck’s hands are on him before he can protest. His shirt is fisted in Buck’s hands, and Buck is walking him backwards until he is pressed with his back against the brick wall.

“Anybody told you how good-looking you are lately, Tex?” Buck teases, trailing an impish thumb over his breastbone. He tries to lift himself off the wall to close the distance between them, but now Buck’s knuckles press into him, holding him back. He’s playing at being coy, but Eddie is impatient.

“I don’t do nicknames,” he grumbles, and he can see that Buck takes enjoyment from tormenting him like this, holding him back like a tiger in a cage.

“What about baby? Sugar?” Buck murmurs, his voice soft and willing, as he leans in, “Sweetheart?”

A sharp intake of breath betrays him, and Buck’s smile curls into something genuine. His grip loosens on Eddie’s shirt, and his fingers skim across his chest before settling at the crook of his neck, and finally he leans forward, his breath warm on Eddie’s lips, as he repeats fondly, “ _Sweetheart_.”

Eddie meets him, closing the last inches between them, so eager that he surprises himself. He holds Buck at his waist, curling his arm until he has Buck flush against him, and Buck’s lips feel like the answer to a prayer. It is so urgent, so _willing_ , that Eddie is desperate for more, and his fingers sink into Buck’s ass, pressing into the hardness between them.

“I want…” Buck pants, pulling away, breathless with beautiful kiss-swollen lips, and he doesn’t finish his sentence, just glances at the ground and his white trousers, before neglecting them in his haste. He removes the cap from his head, shoving it in his pocket, then falls to his knees.

Eddie feels something swell within him, a combination of fondness and attraction that is unexpected after so short a time, but his eyes glaze over with appreciation as Buck works to unfasten his belt, and he tries to help, but Buck swats his hands away, shoving him against the wall by his hips. He lets his head fall back against the brick as Buck succeeds in shoving his trousers aside, and he feels the cold night air along the length of his cock, before he is swallowed by the warmth of Buck’s mouth.

He shudders with the intensity of what he feels, and he looks down to see those powder blue eyes looking up at him, gratefully, as if it is Eddie doing the favor here.

“You are so beautiful” he tells him, leaving Buck entranced.

His fingers tug at the curls Buck had so rudely hidden under his hat. He wants to let Buck continue at his pace, allow him that control, because he is so _good_ at this, but he feels frantic, and his hips are pitching forward against his will. Buck’s fingers curl around his thigh, soothing him with a stroke of his thumb, then nods up at him, acquiescing.

The ache inside him erupts from his throat, and he truly hopes the echo that fills the alleyway doesn’t draw attention to them, because even if it did, he couldn’t stop now. Buck let’s his jaw go slack, and Eddie’s fingers clench in his hair, rolling his hips into Buck’s open mouth. He can feel Buck’s nails clawing into his thighs, releasing some of the pressure building in his throat, and all it takes is one look at Buck, tears gathered in the corners of his long-lashed blue eyes, choking on him, _for_ him, and Eddie is coming hard down his throat.

Eddie expects him to pull off, the deed finished, but Buck takes the head of his cock into his throat and swallows his cum, making sure Eddie feels it as he does so, and it is so sensual that Eddie can’t help himself. He pushes past the fear of his own inexperience and pulls Buck up by his kerchief, tasting himself on Buck’s dewy lips.

Buck smiles into the kiss, like this is enough for him, but Eddie isn’t finished, wants to return the pleasure that Buck has given him, and he can feel how hard Buck is from sucking his cock. He switches their positions, backing Buck up to the wall, but continues to press forward until he is pinned. He unfastens Buck’s trousers while maintaining pressure against him, and then slips his hand into his shorts, gripping his hard length and swallowing the resulting whine off Buck’s tongue as he presses into his mouth.

Buck’s hand seeks for something to hold onto, and Eddie takes him by the wrist, pressing the offending appendage to the wall as he speeds up the motion of his other hand. Buck is panting now, can’t breathe with Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, so Eddie pulls away just far enough that he can watch the summer storm clouds gather in Buck’s eyes, ready to crest over.

“I want you to come for me _Baby_ ,” he growls, and Buck knows what is being asked of him, lurching forward into Eddie’s hand, his hips stuttering as he comes. There’s nothing to clean up with, so Eddie brings his hand to his mouth, and Buck’s eyes go bleary as he watches him lick the trails of cum from the lines of his palm.

Buck’s body sags against the brick, the loose set of his limbs betraying how indulged he feels. He steadies himself against the wall at his tailbone, his long legs still slack in front of him, and pulls himself together as Eddie does the same. He plants his feet to stand properly, but staggers, truly weak at the knees.

Eddie moves to anchor him, but falters, feeling a new force acting on him, one that stops him from getting too close. Buck catches himself, and attempts to dust off his knees, his white pants marred by patches of dirt. He chuckles, amused by his own carelessness, before he glances up to find Eddie watching him.

Eddie knows better, knows he should walk away and stop this before he gets hurt, save them both the trouble. Chalk it up to a scratching a mutual itch. But Buck’s face is so open and trusting, so expectant, that he can’t stop himself. He closes the distance to kiss him again, this time soft and placating, his thumb and forefinger holding his chin in place as he deepens the kiss, tentatively pressing his tongue against Buck’s obliging lips. They stay there for what feels like ages, until it finally sets in how conspicuous they might be if someone simply glanced through the filigree of the iron gate.

Buck holds him, his fingers clinging to him as if he might float away, and Eddie makes no move to leave him, just settles into his touch.

“Stay with me,” Buck finally asks him. “Just for tonight. I don’t want to be alone after this. I’m scared of what’s to come and I just want to hold onto this night for as long as I can.”

Eddie knows his comrades will be expecting him, his bunk left empty, but Buck’s eyes shine with promise and his grin is so expectant that Eddie can’t find it in his heart to say no.

“Where will we stay?” he asks, knowing that Buck has no ready answer. Still, there is a kinetic energy about him, ready to move, to go. “We both have to report for our assignments in the morning.”

He knows the morning will arrive sooner than they would like. It is easily after one in the morning, and the streets are quiet. Eddie thinks back to earlier in the night, what feels like a lifetime ago, to his bunkmates stumbling down the street, and remembers the neon sign of a hotel that advertised rates by the hour.

“I think I passed a place earlier,” he tells Buck, and he’s backing out of the alley, already anticipating a space with no interruptions. “They were advertising hourly rates so it’s probably not the Ritz, but a bed is all we need.”

He wonders if his meaning is lost on Buck, but then he turns and finds him vibrating with how eager he is to please. It had seemed so close before, this hotel, but they walk for blocks with no luck. Finally, just before he gives up, about to return the nearest phone booth to search the directory, they stumble onto it, the neon sign flickering.

There is no lobby to speak of, just a desk behind a wall and an unenthused man behind it. Buck steps up to the window, all charm and innocence, and returns with a key on a plastic fob. He takes Eddie’s hand, touting the desk clerk’s ambivalence, and leads him up three flights of stairs, stopping midway to press him into a corner and gives him some insight on what is to come.

When they make it to the room, it’s simple: a double bed, just stained sheets on a thin mattress with a metal frame, a washstand, with a lavatory down the hall. But none of that matters, because Buck is closing the door behind him, and as he falls back onto the bed, the springs of the mattress give way in anticipation, so Eddie gives in too.

* * *

Eddie is glad he remembered to set the clock on the washstand because the morning comes too soon. Buck’s arms are wrapped around him, and he returns to them after reaching for the clock to quiet it. The sun still hasn’t risen, but outside the window the sky is getting lighter. Buck grumbles, nuzzling his face into Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie can empathize. They didn’t sleep much at all last night.

“We need to get dressed,” Eddie reminds him, though it pains him to say, and Buck’s fingers flex against his abdomen, as if any force could keep them here. “We report at 0800. It’s already after 6, and we have to get across town.”

“Are you sure?” Buck asks absently, though he knows the answer. Like by questioning the time he can make it dissolve or expand into more minutes together.

“I can see the clock right there, Buck,” he says, and Buck grumbles again, before adjusting their bodies so Eddie lies flat, and Buck props himself up with his elbow. He lets his fingers trail down Eddie’s breastbone, then leans in to kiss him sleepily, and Eddie wishes so much that he could sit in this moment, to hold onto it just a bit longer.

Instead he forces himself to swing his legs off the bed, with Buck’s arm hovering at his side, trying to keep the trace connection of skin to skin contact as he divides the white garments from the olive, piling it up on each side of him. On impulse, he grabs Buck’s hat and tips it onto his own head, turning to take in Buck’s reaction.

He is struck when he finds that Buck’s eyes are wet, though he allows himself a disconsolate smile at Eddie’s playfulness, and Eddie remembers the moment the night before when he felt he should back away and instead barreled forward. The look on Buck’s face, the loss he feels in his own chest, is the result.

“Don’t let the Army find out,” Buck says, taking the hat and placing it on his head. “You know what they say about the Navy?”

“You’re all queers,” Eddie teases him. Buck smiles begrudgingly with the knowledge of exactly how Eddie likes to be treated in bed, and he certainly has no defense against his own accusation. Buck knows the sounds he makes, what he feels like when he’s bearing down, and how his fingers curl when Buck’s teeth sink into his shoulder. He watches Buck reminisce about their night together like a lantern show behind his eyes.

“This can’t be the end,” Buck implores, and Eddie would do anything to keep the tears from pooling in his eyes, but he is powerless to change their circumstances, so must look away. “Look, I know what ship I’m on. Just promise you’ll write me once, to let me know where they send you. I’ll write back, but you don’t have to answer.”

“I’ll answer, Buck,” he promises, but he also feels the soreness of leaving. If the loss is this great after one night, what would the cost be if, god-forbid…

“Here,” Eddie says, scrambling for the pad next to the telephone. “Write down the name of your ship. Shit, and your last name. What’s your last name?”

He’s embarrassed that it has taken him until now to ask for that information, but Buck just smirks and scribbles the information down, transcribing the words as he says them aloud, “Seaman Evan Buckley, _USS Baltimore_.”

“Private Edmundo Diaz,” Eddie mirrors him, and Buck smiles as he hands over the piece of paper. Eddie lets his fingers fold around Buck’s as he presses the paper into his palm, and holds them there for a moment, before taking it and shoving it into his pocket.

Finally, Buck starts to dress himself, but before he does, he insists, “Do not lose that. Memorize it if you have to, or when I find you, you’ll be sorry.”

Eddie takes the note out, looks at it again, runs it over his mind a few times so he commits it to memory, and then gives Buck a curt nod, “I won’t forget.”

Eddie straightens his tie in the washstand mirror, and Buck comes up behind him, gathering him into his arms and kissing his shoulder, before admitting, “If you don’t leave now, I’m not sure I can let you go.”

He turns around in Buck’s arms and pours everything he feels into one last kiss, and he can’t breathe for everything that it is and everything it may never get to be.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: This fic originally had some fetishizing Spanish in it that has been deleted. There are still a few instances of it, namely Eddie mouthing along to the words of a song that is in Spanish, and using those words in his letter at the end. I considered removing these as well, but as this is an appropriate song for the time period, and Eddie would know Spanish, I have left in the lipsyncing. I have also left it in the letter, as there is historical evidence that military censors would use letters to out servicemen and have them dishonorably discharged, and I believe that quoting lyrics in Spanish may have better evaded the censors than just the gooey translation. I also have the headcanon that Eddie would have the defense that he had meant to sent the letter to Shannon but must have switched the envelopes. Ooops. I am team don't use Spanish if you don't speak Spanish from this point forward, but this fic is fairly reliant on the song in the title, so this is what I could do to correct it while maintaining its integrity. I hope that is satisfactory.  
> \- - -  
> Because I've gotten this question in the past, I have created a headcanon for the question "What about Christopher?" which is that Eddie knocked up Shannon before shipping out, but while he's away she leaves him with a Dear John letter. The new boyfriend doesn't want someone else's kid, so she leaves Christopher (a baby) with Eddie's parents and Eddie and Buck eventually come back from the war to raise him. I have a song for that too if you're interested, which unlike the others is a little late to be in a WWII story, but is still a good song.
> 
> [_A Dear John Letter_ by Jean Shepard](https://archive.org/details/78_a-dear-john-letter_jean-shepard-lewis-tally-fuzzy-owen_gbia0012342b/A+Dear+John+Letter+-+Jean+Shepard+-+Lewis+Tally.flac)  
> 


End file.
